Saturday Evening
25 July 2009
Draco's POV
Nope.
Nope.
Nope.
Swipe left.
Left.
Left.
Fuck me, this was bad.
I hurled my phone across the reception, watching it shatter as it connected with the wall behind the dining table.
I growled, pointing my wand at the pieces, cast a quick Reparo, and watched the pieces zoom together back into my outstretched hand just so that I could have the satisfaction of flinging it back at the wall again.
Three more times, I threw the goddamned phone and repaired it, and three more times, I was still less than satisfied.
Fuck.
An hour, at least, I'd spent on Grindr, swiping fucking left because they were all awful and unappealing and not. Fucking. Right.
It had been like this for the past couple of weeks.
Since I'd been naïve enough to agree to see Potter again.
Since I'd been asinine enough to kiss the sodding bastard.
Since I'd let my guard down, and so had he.
And it had been incredible.
Beautiful.
He'd been beautiful.
That lithe body of his pressed tightly up to mine, long legs wrapped around me, almost bruising as he clung to me.
And the kissing.
Merciful Merlin, the kissing.
Potter's mouth was absolute heaven. Sweet and hot and pliant. Greedy, demanding more, just like all of him did.
I'd been drowning in him, needing more of him, craving him like the sweetest drug.
And then he'd said my name.
All but sobbed it out. Like a plea. A prayer.
And I'd been utterly lost.
I would have given Harry absolutely anything he wanted at that moment.
And then I'd behaved like a complete arse and shoved him away.
I hadn't even had to look at him to see the hurt and questioning in those eyes. The ones that showed everything he was thinking and feeling.
So here I was, two weeks later, frustrated and angry with myself, completely disinterested in any of the blokes on Grindr, or in the clubs, or at the pub, or anywhere.
The obvious solution was to message Potter.
But I was Draco Fucking Malfoy, and when had I ever taken the obvious solution?
What would I even say to him?
"Hey, sorry I was such an arse last time. I got scared 'cause I've had a massive crush on you since fourth year, and I panicked, so I retreated behind my arsehole façade just in case you decided to hurt me...."
I snorted. Yeah. That'd go over well.
Just for fun, I yanked one of the table lamps from its cord and heaved it across the reception, anticipating the crash as it connected with the wall.
But it never came.
I was hallucinating. Had to be.
Harry was standing in my reception, right hand holding the lamp, having caught it right after apparating (into my fucking flat, I might add) with his ridiculous Seeker skills. Bastard.
"Did you know I was coming, Malfoy?" he asked, snickering. "I figured you were gonna be upset to see me, but honestly...."
I'd forgotten to reset my wards.
"Just letting off some steam, Potter," I managed. "May I help you?"
He smirked, releasing the lamp and sending it back over to the end table nearest me.
"Thought you'd never ask," he admitted, walking towards me, and I decided that Potter smirking was a decidedly dangerous thing.
He was sloshed, I realised, as he came to a halt in front of me, loopy grin in place, eyes just a shade too bright.
Well, maybe not quite, but a tad past tipsy, at least.
"Want your cock, Malfoy," he sighed, sinking to his knees before me, hands coming to rest on my knees, spreading them slightly apart.
Well, shit.
"'S so good," he went on, hands sliding up my thighs, green eyes flickering shut.
"No one else gives me cock the way you do," he added, leaning forward to press his cheek to my thigh, eyes opening to gaze up at me before turning his head to give my inner thigh a nibble.
"No?" I managed, staring down at the sight below me.
"Mm-mm," he shook his head, setting a hand on each of my thighs and pushing himself up to look me in the eye.
"None of them tease me," he informed me, frowning petulantly, reaching to unbutton my shirt. "Just give me what I want when I say I want it," he added, as though this were an egregious crime.
His hands moved down to begin unfastening my trousers, and I found my nerve and, more importantly, my voice.
I reached forward with my left hand to caress his cheek, and his eyes fluttered shut as he leaned into the caress.
"Aww, kitten," I purred. "You're kidding me."
"No," he answered, shaking his head emphatically. "They do," he insisted, hands tugging at my waistband now that my trousers were undone.
I raised my hips so that he could slip them down, not even caring that my cock was already hard.
"Mmmm," he sighed, leaning forward to lap at the tip.
"What do you think you're doing, Potter?" I demanded, gripping the hair on the back of his head and pulling him away. Torturous as that was.
My Harry needed to be toyed with, apparently.
And I was going to give him exactly what he wanted.
"I," he gasped, staring up at me while biting that insufferable lip of his. "I," he said again, gaze sliding down to take in the length of me.
"Please?" It wasn't really a question. A sigh. Pure, undisguised longing. And who was I to deny that?
I released my hand, carding my hand through that ridiculous silken mop, trailing my fingers along his cheek, then that sweet mouth, before pulling away entirely.
"Go ahead, Harry," I murmured, watching him.
He sighed happily and leaned forward, tongue reaching out to lap at my slit.
And again while his hands kneaded my thighs absently.
A third little lap, then he swirled that wicked tongue around the head, gazed up at me briefly with an absolutely wicked smirk, and sucked me down in one go.
Fuck me, Circe, he did that on fucking purpose.
He was absolutely paying me back for the last time.
Harry continued to slide that sinful mouth of his up and down my shaft, tongue somehow managing to lick, swirl, and press into me all the while, and I let myself relax to enjoy Harry's ministrations.
I realised I'd never actually allowed Harry to suck me off as he pleased, usually stopping him so that I could fuck that pretty mouth of his.
That'd clearly been a mistake.
Harry was goddamned wonderful. Not that I was surprised.
Still, I don't think I'd realised just how much he enjoyed sucking cock until now.
He gave himself to it wholeheartedly, that sweet mouth of his sucking me down, swallowing as though he were the one enjoying it, groaning in pleasure, before sliding up to lap or swirl his tongue at the head, sometimes giving it a brief suck.
He traced one hand up to fondle my balls gently, still sliding that incredible mouth of his up and down, looking, for all the world, like this was his absolute happy place.
Harry slurped up my cock one last time before clambering into my lap, leaning in to place a brief kiss on my lips, then pulled away, tearing off his t-shirt and flinging it across the room.
"I ought to thank you," he murmured, leaning back in to whisper in my ear.
"Oh?" I managed, hips rising to meet him as he ground his arse down into me.
"Mmm," he agreed, flinging his head back, eyes shut, a blissful smile on his face as he continued to grind shamelessly against me.
"Why is that?"
I couldn't keep my hands off him. Needed to touch every inch of skin available to me.
I pressed a kiss to the side of his neck, swirled my tongue over that bony point where collarbone meets shoulder, and bent him back so I could swipe first at one nipple, then the other.
Harry, all the while, kept moaning and circling his hips in my lap, leaning back, trusting me to hold him so that he could continue to grind down into my lap while pushing up into my teasing tongue.
"Edging," he managed to gasp out, and I just about dropped him.
"What?"
I slowly brought him back up to sit on my lap, not trusting myself to hold on to him at the moment.
"I've done it twice tonight," he informed me, emerald eyes sparkling down at me, and I had to close my eyes and take a deep breath before looking back up at him.
Fuck me.
Potter wasn't sloshed.
He was fucking sex-wrecked.
And now he was here, grinding into my lap, staring down at me with lust-blown eyes, looking for all the world like he just needed my cock in him now, please.
Merlin fucking help me.
Potter leaned down and captured my lower lip between his teeth, soothing it with his tongue, before trailing kisses up my neck and moving to whisper in my ear.
"Want me to show you?"
I groaned as his mouth found mine, nipping at my bottom lip, tongue sliding in just to dart away again.
Next moment, Harry had all but leapt from my lap, then had turned to look down at me expectantly before striding off towards my bedroom.
Naturally, I followed, doing up my trousers and watching that gorgeous, denim-clad arse as I went.
Show me, indeed.
Potter shucked his jeans and waved a hand at my bed, ridding it of the extraneous pillows and duvet, before flopping onto his back.
He stared up at me, green eyes darkening as he began to trail one hand gently down his chest, the other twining up to caress his neck and twist in the unruly hair at the nape of his neck.
I watched, mesmerised, as he plucked at his left nipple, back arching off the bed, a quiet moan escaping his mouth, while his other hand reached down, fingertips barely touching his cock, trailing up and down lightly.
"Need a hand, Potter?" I asked, palming my own cock through my trousers.
He shook his head, still continuing his ministrations.
"No, 's ok," he sighed, "M good..."
He continued to stroke lightly at his prick, still not quite even grasping it, just lightly trailing the tips of his fingers along the vein, teasing, his knees falling open, and I was thoroughly upset that he'd turned down my offer for help.
"Is this what you did to yourself the last two times, Potter?"
He smiled faintly, eyes slipping shut, hands still moving, and he shook his head.
No?
"It's what I did the first time," he conceded breathlessly.
I nodded, never mind the fact that he couldn't even see me.
His eyes snapped open then, pupils so dilated they were nearly black.
"I touched myself like this," he murmured, hands ghosting over his body, twisting a nipple, smoothing down over his abs, gliding down the crevices of his hips, but not touching his cock directly.
"I pretended it was you," he went on, eyes locked on mine as he continued to run his fingers along his torso, fingers pausing occasionally to pluck at a nipple, to reach back up into his thick mane of hair to pull, brushing down to stroke his thighs, caressing his balls, all the while avoiding his cock, standing stiff and red, begging for attention.
"I had to keep slowing down... tease myself," he sighed, "because I knew you wouldn't give it to me straight away..."
"Give you what, Harry?" I asked, pulling my cock from the painful confines of my trousers to stroke myself, watching the brilliant show before me.
"Anything," he responded. "Everything."
I continued to watch as he teased himself, eyes following his every move.
I'd barely even realised I'd moved, but next moment, I was straddling him, leaning in close to capture those perfect lips with my own, hands running down his sides, grasping his own, and tugging them gently above his head.
I licked into his mouth, then moved to nip along his jawline, his neck, sucking and biting to mark him again, his moans and thrusts upwards only encouraging me.
"Draco," he moaned.
I made a noise in the back of my throat at hearing my name and moved lower to lick and suck at his nipples, releasing his hands so they could tangle themselves in my hair.
"Please," he sighed, body rolling beneath mine, seeking more.
I ignored him and continued to kiss and lick my way down his torso, stopping to lap slowly at his hipbones, sucking, licking, and biting until Harry's hips were rising off the mattress in protest.
"Draco, please," he groaned, hands tangling in my hair, trying to yank me back up.
I practically growled and surprised him by binding his hands to the headboard so that I could move on without him distracting me, continuing my trail downwards, avoiding his now-leaking cock, trailing my hands down the insides of his thighs, moving to push them apart, meeting some resistance.
I paused and lifted my head to look at him questioningly.
We'd done so much already; I couldn't imagine him hesitating now.
"Harry?" I asked, rising back up to kiss him briefly, still not undoing his hands, knowing he'd already have been free if he'd really wanted to be.
Those fucking eyes of his blinked open, looking at me almost shyly, and Harry nuzzled his cheek into my hand as it caressed his face.
His dark lashes were wet, he'd been so desperate, and I leaned in to brush each eyelid with my lips, tasting the saltiness of those unshed tears.
"Harry?" I questioned again, and he sighed quietly, lifting his lips to my own, pressing soft, little kitten kisses to my mouth.
I tentatively reached my left hand down to brush against his right thigh again, and he groaned, kitten kisses gone, his tongue thrusting back into my mouth again.
I took this as a sign to keep going and gently pushed his leg to the side, running my fingers up to brush against his opening, anticipating the heat and velvet of it, and instead only meeting the smooth rubber of a dildo, the end pushed all the way in so that the base was flush with his arse.
Fuck.
My only response was to half-groan, half-sob into his mouth because, fuck, what else was I supposed to do?
"I," Harry mumbled, trying to talk and kiss at the same time. "I..."
"Merlin, Harry," I sighed, tearing my mouth away from his to stare at him in disbelief.
"I told you I did it twice," he gasped, jerking up towards me against his bonds, legs wrapping themselves around my hips to draw me closer, our cocks rubbing together, eliciting a groan from both of us.
"Did what..." I began, then remembered his cheeky smile and sultry confession from earlier.
Edging.
Holy fuck.
And he'd accused me of trying to kill him with sex?
"Harry," I sighed, leaning in to capture his mouth once more because how could I not snog him senseless right now?
"Mmm," he replied, tongue tangling lazily with mine as my hands continued to roam across his chest and smooth down around his legs, still wrapped around me.
Next thing I knew, his hands were tangled in my hair and trailing across my back, Harry having decided he'd had enough of being tied up, I suppose.
"Mmrph!" I protested as Harry flipped me onto my back, and I found my own hands bound above me, stuck to the headboard as though bound with iron.
I pulled and felt out with my own magic, but the bonds remained taut, and I stared up at Harry, honestly just a bit apprehensive.
"Sorry," he amended quickly, seeing my face, and I felt the bonds loosen slightly.
I tested them again and felt them give way when I urged and, satisfied, settled back, allowing my arms to remain tethered above my head.
Harry smirked, then, and began his own torturous trail down my torso, tongue darting out to tease at my nipples, to trace along that scar running across my chest, to dip into my bellybutton, eliciting a most un-Malfoy-like giggle, which, of course, had the arsehole returning for more.
The giggles, however, quickly gave way to moans as Harry continued to kiss his way down, first nibbling along one hipbone and down along my groin, purposely avoiding my cock, which, of course, jerked in his direction, as though begging for attention.
Harry ignored it and continued to lick and nibble down the inside of my right thigh before moving to lap at my bollocks, taking first one, then the other gently into his mouth, then repeating. Licking, sucking, tongue swirling, driving me absolutely mad.
Finally, he licked a long, slow path up my cock, stopping every once in a while to suck and gather the pre-cum that was dripping down the shaft, eyes sliding shut, a throaty moan adding to the sensation.
When Harry reached the tip of my cock, he swirled his tongue around the head, pulling the sensitive tip into his mouth and sucked just this side of too much before pulling off completely. He stared up at me briefly before swirling his tongue around the head, sucking me down, slowly, oh, so mother-fucking slowly, down, down, all the way down, throat working like a fucking python.
Parseltongue in-fucking-deed.
I barely had the mental capacity to wonder if the two were related before Harry was working his mouth up and down my length, swallowing me greedily, slurping and drooling with each pass up and down my prick, groaning and moaning as though he was the one in the throes of ecstasy.
Then again, knowing my Harry, I suppose he was.
Harry slowed suddenly, eyes locking with mine, as he began to swallow my cock again at an agonisingly slow pace, and I definitely did not strain against my invisible bonds, trying to drive deeper into the wet heat of his mouth.
"Harry," I begged, but he didn't listen.
Just kept sucking, slowly, as though he had all the time in the world to savour my cock, throat working relentlessly to devour me, working me into a whimpering, again, most un-Malfoy-like mess, and I had the briefest glimmer of hope that Potter didn't have a goddamned Pensieve to save any of this shit for future blackmail.
"Say the spell," he gasped, slurping off of my cock for half a second.
Spell? My lust-addled brain had no idea what he was asking for.
"Spell?" I managed as his mouth swallowed me again.
Harry worked my cock for a few moments before pulling off, not quite meeting my eyes.
"Yeah," he said quietly, sucking hungrily at the tip of my cock.
"I'm... I'm sorry, Harry," I just barely managed. "I don't know..."
"You know," he encouraged, still lapping at my cock, eyes locking on mine as he raised himself onto all fours so that his arse was up in the air, his head leaning down to suck me in, and gods, wasn't he a pretty sight?
I'm not sure how long I got lost there, watching Harry's beautiful mouth work my cock, but it must have been, well, a while because he popped off suddenly, rolling his eyes, clearly exasperated, as he rose to kneel between my thighs.
"Merlin, Malfoy," he sighed, eyes snapping shut. "Are you fucking kidding me?"
"I..." it was all I could manage, honestly.
"The spell," he all but ground out, eyes still closed.
Suddenly, bottle-green eyes were staring down at me with an intensity that made my breath catch.
"You know, Malfoy," he snapped, those eyes flashing. "The one spell I might maybe need you to help out with when I've had a fucking dildo up my arse all night and no idea how to make it work on its own," he finished, chest heaving slightly.
Kitten had worked himself up to quite a tirade, I managed to note.
"My wrist can only bend at an angle for so long, arsehole," he added, a slight blush rising in his cheeks.
I could only stare up at him, mouth gaping, I'm sure.
I'm not even sure I could've breathed properly at that moment, the mental image of Potter working that dildo in and out of his arse manually because he didn't know the spell to have it fuck him proper?
Sweet Merlin, how was I supposed to process this?
"You... y-y-you..." I stammered.
Fucking brilliant, Draco. Superbly eloquent, you fucking idiot.
Harry's eyes snapped down to me, realisation dawning in them.
Oh fuck.
He hadn't even realised. The innocent little fuckwad.
I was done for now, my own realisation settling in as Potter smirked down at me knowingly.
"Oh, I did," he purred, settling himself back onto my lap, hand stroking down my torso, knowing goddamned well I couldn't do anything about it.
"I did so good," he added, eyes fluttering shut as he grazed his arse lightly along my prick.
"Fuck you, Potter," I ground out, relishing in the feel of his arse grinding slowly into me, knowing the dildo in his arse was pulsing slightly deeper inside of him as he did so.
"I twisted it in and out of my sweet, little, pink pucker so slowly even you would've told me to hurry up," he added, winking as he said the word pink because he was a bloody wanker.
"The way you like to fuck me," he added, eyes holding mine as he all but slithered his way back down my body.
"The way you like to tease me," he added, daintily licking at my cock, "until I'm a shameless, incoherent mess."
Potter continued to lick and tease, pulling away whenever I tried to follow that stupid mouth of his.
"I wonder, Malfoy," he sighed, pulling away completely to sit on his heels, eyes watching me carefully. "I wonder what it would take to render you the same?"
He gasped suddenly as the dildo began to work itself slowly in and out of his arse, and I managed to smirk up at him even whilst watching the thick, black length of it rising and falling between his legs, knowing it was working itself in and out of that sweet, fucking pink arse of his.
"You're welcome, Potter," I said, sincerely as could be, as Harry's eyes slid closed, a groan escaping his lips as he rolled his head slowly in a circle, as though releasing the tension he'd been carrying all night, wanting that dildo to fuck him properly.
Moaning, Harry leaned forward and slipped my prick back into his mouth, sliding down, still on all fours, arching his back as the dildo continued to fuck him, and Merlin, if I didn't wish there was a mirror, stood just behind him, so I could watch.
"Merlin, Potter," I managed to gasp out. "Every time I think I've finally worked out what a colossal cock-slut you are, you manage to surprise me."
He didn't respond. Merely kept working my cock as the dildo worked him.
"How many times have you wanked yourself raw since last time, imagining a dildo fucking your arse while you slurp at my cock like it's your favourite lolly?"
Potter groaned and snapped his eyes open to positively leer at me as he ran his tongue up and around my shaft as though it were definitely his favourite lolly.
Fuck me, this mouth of mine was only going to get me into trouble.
"Pretty sure Honeydukes was out of Malfoy-flavoured lolly last I checked," he murmured cheekily, tongue still trailing along the sides of my shaft, flicking and swirling lazily around the head with each torturous stroke.
"I suppose that's why I'm here, putting up with your pretentious arse," he added, giving one last, longing lick before he gave himself to swallowing me down again.
I growled, arms still bound above my head, and retaliated by commanding the dildo to twist and pick up the pace.
Potter groaned and arched his back even more, never relenting the pace his mouth had set as he continued to work up and down my length, the vibrations from his groans only serving to drive me wilder.
This had to stop. I had to do something.
Potter's mouth popped off of my prick suddenly, and he stared up at me, bewildered, as an invisible barrier seemed to separate him from his treat.
I had to give him a satisfied smile at that one. Omnino angustos. Block completely. Ha.
"Sorry, kitten," I sighed, watching his eyes flicker shut as the dildo changed its angle to hit his prostate more fully, relishing in the positively uninhibited moan that tore from his throat as it did so.
"I want to hear how much you love being fucked proper by that dildo, and I'm afraid my dick was absolutely getting in the way," I explained, glad that my voice was managing to come out casually, as though I were completely unaffected by the mouth-watering sight Harry was before me.
He had his head cradled in his arms, pressing into the mattress in an attempt to arch his back even more, hips rolling up and back to fuck back against the dildo.
Merlin, I loved Harry like this.
"Malfoy, please," he sobbed, head turning so his eyes could meet mine.
No. Actually, I loved Harry like this.
Completely wrecked, eyes seeking mine, begging. Still fucking himself back onto the dildo as though he couldn't have stopped his body if he'd tried.
On a whim, I had the dildo withdraw from Harry's body until just the tip of it remained, then had it stop suddenly.
Harry let out a string of expletives and glared up at me.
"Fuck. You. Malfoy," he managed to grind out, quite clearly, despite the fact that his hips continued to rock back. Continued to fuck himself wide open on that dildo held stationary behind him.
I merely raised an eyebrow and gazed pointedly at his arse, working itself back and forth, and he swore again, burying his face in his arms in an attempt to quiet his moans.
Sweet Hecate, could he be any more fucking perfect?
I sighed and commanded the dildo to withdraw and fall to the floor behind him with a thud, and Harry all but began crying at the loss.
"Malfoy," he whined, knees sliding out behind him, lowering his body to the mattress in one smooth motion, where he began to roll his hips, shamelessly humping into the bed. He turned his face towards me again, and I could see tears glistening on those impossibly long, thick lashes again.
"Let me go, Potter," I said softly. Yes, I could have used a burst of magic to release myself, but I wanted him to do it.
He complied immediately and scrambled up into my arms when I held them out towards him.
Harry settled himself in my lap, arms wrapping around my neck, fingers tangling themselves in my hair as I threaded one hand through his velvety locks, allowing myself to bury my nose and breathe in the scent of his stupid supermarket shampoo and his own delectable Harry-scent, my other hand pressing against his lower back, urging him closer.
I'm not sure who even started the kiss, but it was fucking incredible.
Frantic, desperate, so intense, I could have cum right there and, honestly, I'm not even sure how I didn't, with Harry pressed so close against me, that perfect arse of his grinding back against my cock, letting it slip up and down his crack, those unholy moans of his vibrating into my mouth as our tongues danced and swirled together.
I didn't even bother to breathe, Harry and I just recycling each other's air, refusing to separate because why the fuck would we when clearly everything we needed was right fucking here?
"Draco."
It was that same fucking sound.
That same sob.
That sinful prayer.
The one that drove me fucking insane.
The one where I would do anything Harry asked.
"What?" I managed between kisses. Because we couldn't stop kissing. "What is it, Harry?" I murmured. "What is it my Harry wants?"
"You," he responded immediately, voice still wrecked. "Draco, please!"
I said I'd do anything he asked.
Sweet Merlin, would I.
I pushed him backwards gently, moving with him so that he was on his back, me settled between his thighs, those long, muscled legs circling up around my waist, pulling me closer, holding me tight against him so that I couldn't have pulled away had I even been able to try. We were still kissing uncontrollably, hands twisting through each other's hair, pulling each other even closer, not that it was possible. Harry was groaning into me, and I was drinking in every fucking sound he made like they were more precious than air.
I tried to move to line my cock up with Harry's opening, but he was wrapped too tightly around me.
"Harry," I murmured, trying to move out of his embrace, if only for a few seconds. "You have to let go. Just for a moment, kitten," I soothed.
He obliged and unwrapped his legs from my waist, even if his top half still clung tight, mouth reaching up for mine. As though he had to reach. As though I wasn't eagerly kissing right back, wanting.
No. Needing to be inside of him.
I cast a quick warming and lube spell, then reached down and pressed the head of my cock into Harry's loosened hole, my hitched breath at the velvet heat suddenly surrounding me, matching perfectly with Harry's gasp.
I forced myself to push in slowly, just a little, then withdraw, back and forth, loosening him further.
"Draco," he moaned again, hips rising to meet mine. "Please. I'm good."
Literally, all the encouragement I needed.
I sighed, shutting my eyes as I allowed myself to sink fully into Harry, felt him open and wrap tightly around me, his arms and legs mimicking that sinful embrace as they continued to wind their way around my shoulders and my hips, demanding that I press into him, let myself be swallowed by him, and fucking fuck it all to goddamned Hades, I was lost.
My brain didn't even work anymore.
We were both moving completely on instinct.
My hips drove into him just as frantically as his rose to meet mine.
No finesse or steady rhythm here.
No teasing.
This was desperate. Urgent.
Not meant to last long because, to be honest, I wasn't sure my psyche could survive this much longer.
Harry's mouth yielded beneath mine, all but swallowing my tongue as our mouths imitated our bodies, hungry and demanding, refusing to separate, even for a second, because fuck breathing.
Fuck everything except for Harry, and me, and this... this...
Whatever the fuck this was.
I was distantly aware of Harry's moans becoming more high-pitched. Even more frantic. I obediently changed the angle of my hips so that I was sliding over that bundle of nerves with every stroke.
Harry had to cum soon. I couldn't last much longer, and there was no way I was coming before my Harry did.
Suddenly, Harry stiffened beneath me, his arse clenching so tightly around me that I barely even noticed his nails raking down my back and legs clamping around me with such intensity I just knew I'd have bruises tomorrow.
Hell, for a week, at least.
I lasted all but half a stroke longer before my orgasm hit me like a freight train.
You know the sort, where you can see it coming and know you've no hope of stopping it before it's there, barrelling through you with such an intensity that you get swept up and dragged along with it.
The kind that seems to last forever, where you're spent and drained, but your body keeps moving. Keeps pumping in and out of that incredible heat. Keeps driving in and out of that warm mouth.
Because he was still moving, that beautiful body of his still pressing up, that swollen mouth hot and open below me, demanding more, and I had to keep giving because fuck, he was perfect.
I rolled us both over, Harry scrabbling to a sitting position, still hunched over, refusing to remove his mouth from mine.
As though I would have let him.
I was still hard, despite the incredible orgasm that had just ripped through me, and Harry began to raise and lower himself on my cock, his own still standing erect, bobbing with his movements, a string of cum connecting it obscenely to his taut stomach.
"Fuck, Draco," he sighed, breaking our kiss, finally, his hips and thighs still working as he slid up and down my length.
"Mmmm."
Frankly, I was pleased with my contribution to this conversation, given the mental state I was in.
Harry leant back in, eyes half-lidded with lust, and I propped myself up on my elbows to meet him halfway, lips meeting for a slow, yearning kiss.
The second time was a slow burn, bodies meeting and separating languidly, hands and lips exploring, familiarising ourselves with every bump and dip of the other's body.
When we finally came that time, it was like a warm wave that crested slowly and deliciously over my body. Almost without warning and without me having even noticed, save for the relaxed feeling of utter bliss it left in its wake.
"Fuck, Malfoy," Harry sighed above me. "Why the fuck do you have to be such a good lay?"
He clambered off of me, and I felt the mattress settle beside me as it cradled his weight.
"Because I aim to do everything well, Potter," I replied easily, not quite ready to open my eyes.
When I finally did open them, I found myself staring into Harry's brilliant green ones, a grin quirking down at me.
"You're a right poncy prat, you know that?"
I merely raised my arms above my head and stretched, arching my back off the bed, and rolled my feet slowly to release any extra tension and "hmmed."
"You did that on purpose, you wanker," Harry muttered, and I snapped my eyes open to see his raking over my naked form covetously.
I certainly hadn't. But I was going to remember that for next time.
"Come, Potter," I commanded, hopping off the bed and tugging his hand to have him follow along behind me. "Shower. Now."
***
I loved my bathroom. It was my sanctuary, my escape from the stress of life.
From mum when she nagged too much.
From my father, when he'd still been around, and I'd been forced to visit him in his cell, and he'd still managed to make me feel the inadequate failure of a son he'd always seen me as.
From my job after a particularly dangerous mission when I questioned if this was maybe the last time I'd put my life in danger, knowing damned well that it wasn't.
I didn't really invite anyone else in here.
Then again, could you imagine a Muggle bloke? If I drew him towards my seemingly adequately sized en-suite, waved my hand, and let it expand to this over-indulgent, obnoxious piece of luxury?
Even though Harry had been here before, his eyes widened a bit, and he looked around like a child in a very large candy shop.
"Your scenery's changed," he mused, staring out the floor-to-ceiling windows.
I glanced "outside" at the charming French gardens, with their neatly manicured trees spreading out in a labyrinth, small clearings within decorated with fountains and small benches.
"Oh," I couldn't even remember what scene had been outside last time I'd brought him here. Truth be told, I didn't want to remember much of what had happened last time. "Yeah, erm, it's just scenery from places I like," I explained. "They change randomly. Kind of like a laptop screensaver."
I kept walking towards the showers on the opposite end and turned on the tap for both. I turned and smirked at Potter as he approached, still taking in the scenery outside.
"It's the view from my room in France," I told him, and he smiled softly.
Perfect.
Without warning, I grabbed one of the hand-held shower wands and pelted Harry with the spray, wielding it like a makeshift water pistol.
"Malfoy!" he shrieked, hands raised to protect his face as he leaned into the spray, fumbling for the other hand held, making to retaliate.
Oh, goody.
And retaliate, he did, grabbing the unit off the wall and aiming it at me, his left hand spinning the dial to find the strongest spray setting available.
We battled it out for a good couple of minutes before I lost, dreadfully, having collapsed onto the floor in a fit of giggles at the sheer ridiculousness of Harry Fucking Potter and Draco Malfoy having a water fight in a shower.
"Do you surrender, Malfoy?" he demanded, still spraying me, although he'd lessened the spray and was aiming it around my sides and bellybutton because, apparently, the bastard had figured out exactly how ticklish I was.
Back at school, most people had thought I was so cold and such a right bastard that I would've hexed anyone who so much as brushed against me accidentally. Mostly because I'd wanted them to think that on account of being so goddamned ticklish.
Have you any idea how vulnerable you are in a dormitory full of teenage boys when you're ticklish?!
"I do! I do!" I gasped, hands trying, unsuccessfully, to protect my most ticklish bits. "Ceasefire, sweet fucking Merlin, Potter!"
He relented and replaced his showerhead back in its holder, stepping over to replace mine, which I'd left dangling when I'd collapsed.
"Draco Malfoy, ticklish?" he mused. "Never tickle a sleeping dragon, hmm?"
"I dare you to try," I challenged.
Literally, the entirety of Slytherin house at Hogwarts had known better than to disturb my beauty rest.
"No," he replied, closing his eyes and turning his face up into the rain shower. "I'm pretty sure that motto was written for you."
I smirked as I raised my hands to knead along Potter's shoulders, working at some knots there before working my thumbs up one side of his neck and then the other.
Potter groaned and leaned his head to one side, allowing me better access.
"Merlin, Potter, don't they have a masseuse on that damn team of yours?"
"Apparently, I don't see her enough," he murmured, leaning back into me as I allowed my hands to continue their ministrations down to the tender muscles just under his collarbones. No one ever thought to massage a person here, yet there was always so much tension carried there.
"Mmmm," he sighed, still leaning back against me, as I stopped the massage and allowed my hands to wander down over his chest and over his abdomen, mouth nuzzling into his neck as my hands came to a rest just above those delectable hip bones of his.
We stayed like this for a minute, then I forced myself to drag my hands back up, let them continue up past his neck, to tangle in the thick, soaking locks, fingers delicately working at his scalp.
"Mmmm," he groaned, this time, apparently much in need of a good scalp massage. I was willing to bet Potter didn't even sort of massage his scalp when he washed his hair. He probably just squirted some shampoo onto his head and sort of lathered it up, then rinsed.
I grabbed my bottle of shampoo (Molton Brown's Glossing Shampoo, not just because it made my hair shine like fucking silver, but because it smelled delicious as well) and squirted a bit into my palm, working it into a bit of a lather with my other hand, before turning my attention back to Harry.
He was still leaning back against me, eyes closed, and I gently nudged him forward and out of the spray so I could work the lather into his hair properly. I took my time, fingers gently working in circles to work out any tightness in his scalp, as well as to work the shampoo into his locks. Perhaps I thought if I reached every single strand individually, his hair might cooperate and not stick up all over the place.
Right. I almost snorted with laughter.
Reluctantly, I drew my hands away and urged Potter back beneath the spray, tilting his head back, using my hands to cradle his face and keep the water and soap from running into his eyes.
"Bet you've never had your hair lathered like that, hm Potter?"
His eyes blinked open dazedly, and he smiled slowly.
"No," he admitted, shaking his head slowly. "I bet you wash your own hair like that all the time. Told you you were a poncy prat."
"First of all, Potter, you should absolutely give yourself a thorough scalp massage from time to time," I informed him, moving aside to grab the accompanying conditioner. "You've no idea how much tension people store there, and it just drains down into your neck. Exactly why your neck is such a fucking wreck, I might add."
I squeezed a generous dollop of conditioner into my palm and nudged Potter out of the spray again before continuing.
"Secondly, a bit rich of you, calling me a poncy git when you're the one who loves nothing more than a cock shoved down your throat while another fucks you up the arse," I teased, smirking at him, and he had the decency to look contrite.
I raised my hands and began to massage the conditioner into his hair, and he breathed in deeply again.
"What're you doing now?"
"What do you mean, what am I doing now?" I demanded, still working at his hair, combing the conditioner through with my fingers. "I'm putting conditioner in your damnable hair."
Suddenly, I paused, an absolutely inconceivable notion coming to me.
"Oh. My. Fucking. Morgana," I stared down at him, hands still tangled in his hair.
"You don't use conditioner, do you, Potter?" I accused, glaring at him. No wonder his hair was such a mess.
He grinned up at me sheepishly but didn't respond. Really, it was all the response I needed.
"I bet you use one of those ridiculous 2-in-1 shampoo/conditioner bullshit products," I went on, fingers returning to their mission of applying proper product to Potter's hair for the first time in, well, ever, probably.
Potter's shoulders were shaking in silent laughter as he peered up at me.
"Actually, it's a 3-in-1. It's body wash, too," he admitted.
My hands dropped from his head to my sides, and I stared at him incredulously.
"No," I stated. I was still staring at him, waiting for him to tell me this was his idea of a bad joke. "Absolutely fucking not. You're joking."
Potter was still staring up at me sheepishly.
"Merlin, no wonder your hair is such a damnable wreck," I scolded.
"You're going to throw that piece of shit away, and you'll never speak to me of such nonsense ever again," I informed him.
Potter shrugged and made to move towards the spray.
"What in Merlin's name do you think you're doing?!" I squawked, jerking him back towards me and away from the water like it was a fucking Dementor.
"Rinsing," he responded, looking confused.
"Now? Gods, Potter, you utter heathen," I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose.
"Well, what else am I supposed to do?" He looked so adorably lost and confused that I almost kissed the tip of his nose.
"Three minutes, Potter," I informed him. "You're supposed to leave it in for three minutes."
He stared at me as though I'd just sprouted another head.
"I'm just supposed to stand here and wait with this goop on my head for three goddamned minutes?"
"Potter," I sighed again. Really, was he trying to be obtuse? "Please tell me that your daily ablutions consist of more than slathering that pretty head of yours with shower gel?"
"Oh," he let out a little laugh. "Right. I don't know why I thought I had to stand here, still as a statue, while I waited."
I rolled my eyes and tossed my bottle of shower gel at him with a spare washcloth.
"There," I instructed as he caught both in one hand. Showoff. "Use that."
He squirted a bit of the gel onto the cloth and inhaled deeply.
"Mmm," he sighed. "This smells like you."
"Of course it does," I replied, shutting my eyes and working shampoo into my own hair. "It's mine."
We spent the next few minutes scrubbing and lathering in silence, then:
"Hey, Malfoy."
I opened my eyes to see Potter smirking at me.
"Since I've been such a good boy, letting you manhandle me in your shower," he began, leaning back to rinse the conditioner from his hair.
I waited patiently, wondering what bargain Potter was trying to drive.
"What?" I demanded, after what seemed like ages andPotter was still standing there, letting the water pour down over him, clearly blissed out from his first experience with conditioner.
His eyes opened and slanted over towards me, and he flashed an impish little grin my way.
Next thing I knew, Harry was on his knees before me, mouth sliding down my cock, as though he hadn't just had it lodged down his throat for the better part of the evening.
"Merlin, you're insatiable, Potter," I informed him.
"Mmmm," he replied, still swallowing me down.
Well. Let hell freeze if I was going to be the one to stop him.
I closed my eyes, allowing my fingers to tangle in his (much more manageable) mop and lost myself in a wicked fantasy where Potter's mouth working my cock outside in an actual rainstorm.
***
Somehow we ended up in the tub, kissing, despite the fact both of us should have known damn well by now that kissing was a horrible idea.
Seriously. Potter was a drug. A fucking dangerous one, at that.
How else to explain how one transitions from rinsing hair, to a mind-blowing blow job, to frantic kissing, and somehow ending up in a bathtub full of fragrant bath oil, just, well. Kissing.
Potter was clearly made out of crack.
It was the only logical explanation for how I needed to nuzzle my face into his neck, biting, licking, sucking. How I had to mark him as mine so that no other idiot bloke would come after my stash, apparently.
Harry, like the habit-forming drug he was, continued to moan and press closer and all but surround me with him, so there was absolutely no way I could have escaped.
"Malfoy," he sighed, head tilting back, allowing me better access as I sucked a particularly purple bruise onto the side of his neck, licking at it to soothe the sting.
So I was Malfoy again, was I?
I growled and lifted stupid Harry from my lap, bending him over the edge of the sunken tub, adding a cushioning charm for his comfort, before pressing myself up behind him, placing kisses along the back of his neck, my hands trailing down his back as I sank to my knees behind him, continuing to place little kisses and nips along his gorgeous arse.
Harry rolled his hips back into my eager palms as I pushed him open, and I'm pretty sure we both moaned as I slowly licked up between his cheeks.
The cedar and sandalwood from the shower gel and bath oil only added to the sweet, musky taste that was pure Harry, and I pressed back in to lick and swirl my tongue around his entrance, all pink and puffy from the dildo and my cock.
I slipped inside easily, not even bothering to suppress my sigh of pleasure as Harry's silken channel moulded itself around my tongue, Harry's moans only encouraging me as I continued to fuck my tongue in and out of him.
But not too quickly. Not just yet.
I wanted to take my time. Wanted to taste every damned inch of him. Wanted him collapsed and incoherent above me, babbling whatever litanies popped into his head, hips fucking shamelessly back onto my face with an urgency that would make the poor bastard blush so prettily when I told him so later.
Harry undone was quickly becoming my favourite fantasy.
And he was no less spectacular tonight than he had been in all of my fantasies since.
Well. Since ever, really.
He positively keened when I withdrew my tongue from his arse, only to begin lapping at his slackened hole with gentle flicks, swirling around the puffed rim every so often with just the tip of my tongue, withdrawing as he tried to impale himself on me.
"Draco," he begged, and I allowed myself a triumphant little smirk before licking a slow stripe up his crack, planting slow, open-mouthed kisses up his spine and across his shoulders as I rose behind him.
"Please," he sighed again, leaning back into me, his head cradled in the crook of my neck, arse grinding against my cock.
He reached an arm up over his shoulder to draw my head closer to his from behind, and I could only follow as he bent my head down for a sloppy kiss.
Merlin, Harry, you're filthy, I thought.
Not that I was complaining, mind.
I didn't break the kiss as I leaned us both forward, right hand searching along the floor around the tub for the secret box I knew was there.
The catch sprang open, and I delved around inside, searching.
"What?" Harry seemed to have finally noticed what I was doing, and he broke away, turning to look at the hidden cache in front of him.
It was a small "treasure chest" of all sorts of toys and lubes, and Harry turned his head to give me a scandalised look.
"What?" I shrugged. "Bath time should be fun."
He grinned, eyes raking down me.
"Clearly."
His eyes glanced back towards my hand, now emerging from the recess holding a glass dildo.
It was one of my favourites, about 17cm in length with a pronounced mushroom head and a dark green raised ridge that spiralled down the entire length.
To say that I had wasted countless hours of my life playing with this particular toy would be somewhat of an understatement.
"Where'd you find that?" Harry asked, eyeing the toy appreciatively.
"Don't remember, honestly," I replied, raising the thick head of the toy towards Harry's luscious mouth.
He opened without hesitation, tongue gently lapping at the underside of the fake prick before sucking the head of it into his mouth, eyes slanting up at me to flash a wicked grin when he felt my own prick jump at the sight of him.
"Merlin, Harry," I sighed, watching as he continued to suck and lick at the tip of the dildo. "I'm not sure if it ought to be illegal or mandatory for you to constantly have a dick to suck with that sinful mouth of yours."
Harry gave the head a particularly obscene suck before popping off momentarily.
"Mandatory," he replied, "Definitely mandatory," he added, the tip of his tongue beginning to flick gently at the bits of the emerald ridges he could reach running up the side of the dildo facing him.
I watched, absolutely bewitched, as he reached the head of the toy again, lapping at the head and then sucking it gently into his mouth, green eyes watching me the entire time.
Fuck me.
I'd gotten the damned thing in emerald green because I'd been younger, and house pride was still a thing.
The fact that it matched Harry's eyes perfectly made me damned glad that I had.
Harry's eyes slid shut as he sucked the length of the glass shaft down, groaning as the ridges played across his tongue, no doubt imagining what they would do to his insides once I'd twisted and teased it into his arse.
"Can you imagine Harry?" I whispered into his ear, gently easing the dildo out of his mouth, the bastard sucking hard as he could to draw it back in despite my efforts.
I must have gasped or groaned or something because Harry's eyes opened, and he managed to smirk up at me as he swallowed the damned thing down his throat again, hollowing his cheeks as he sucked back up, releasing it and turning to loop his arms around my neck.
"Imagine what?" he asked, hopping up so he was sitting on the edge of the tub, legs twining behind me to wrap around my waist and draw me closer.
I placed both hands on either side of Harry's hips and leaned in to suck gently at his bottom lip, tongue darting out to lick into his mouth.
"This glass cock," I answered, raising it to his lips again and running the head of it along his bottom lip. "Twisting slowly, in and out of that sweet arse of yours."
"Mmm," Potter made a noise of agreement as he leaned back on his elbows, then slid back so he was lying splayed out before me, eyes fluttering shut, a dreamy smile flitting across his face.
Then those emerald eyes snapped open, pinning me with his gaze.
"Won't feel half as good as you, I'd wager, but I'm sure it'll be nice," he mused, eyes still watching me, hand trailing down his chest and abdomen, creeping towards his dick.
I smacked his hand away from its path and glared down at him.
"Christ, Malfoy," he grumbled. "Why won't you ever let me touch myself?"
"Because," I replied, trailing the tip of the glass prick down his chest "I get to play with you."
I paused while I continued to trail the dildo down Harry's abdomen, letting it graze the head of his dick, swirling it in his pre-cum, before continuing down his shaft, finally letting the head of it nestle between his bollocks.
"If you want to wank yourself like a bloody teenager, you can do that at your own place on your own time," I finished, raising the dildo to my mouth and sucking the flared head of it into my mouth.
Harry's eyes were riveted to me, licking and sucking at the glass head, knowing I was tasting him, watching my eyes flutter shut as I moaned quietly.
I hadn't even realised my own hand had begun to stroke my cock until Harry sat up, frowning, and I felt him smack it away.
"Ow," I protested, shaking my hand. "Fucking Merlin, Harry, you don't have to break it."
"If I don't get to touch mine, you don't get to touch yours," he insisted, hand snaking down to wrap itself around my cock, stroking gently.
I groaned and let the dildo fall, splashing into the tub and falling to the bottom, all but forgotten, as Harry tilted his head to fit his mouth to mine, tongue swiping inside, swallowing my next moan.
My left hand reached down to circle around Harry in return.
And fuck me, but when was the last time a handjob felt so good?
We stayed like that for gods know how long, hands slipping up and down each other lengths, mouths devouring, bodies pressing impossibly close again.
"Draco," Harry moaned, his hand picking up speed as his hips bucked up into my own hand, urging me to go faster.
The next few moments were a blur.
Tongues battling, bodies rutting frantically, then teeth biting lips and necks and collarbones.
I was vaguely aware of swatting Harry's hand out of the way and fisting both our cocks together, hand moving desperately, kissing and moaning into Harry's mouth until we both exploded in such quick succession I'm not even sure who came first.
Harry continued to grind up into my slowing fist, legs still wrapped tightly around me, and I dragged my mouth from his, ignoring his cry of protest, to latch on to his neck, deepening the purple mark I'd begun earlier.
We stayed like that, bodies slumped against each other, my head resting in the crook of Harry's neck, his own flopped over on top of mine, breath slowly relaxing, arms coming up to wrap around each other, tracing patterns across backs, hands tangling lazily in hair, finally starting to dry after the shower and the bath and the sweat.
"I'm... bed..." Harry mumbled.
"Yeh. Me, too," I replied sleepily.
Less than five minutes later, Harry and I were snuggled beneath my covers, bodies still insisting on pressing as close together as possible, my arms wrapping around him from behind as he nestled backwards into me, sleep already taking over before I could think to question all the reasons why this was a terrible idea.
***
I awoke next morning, absolutely dying beneath the heat of my comforter, and realised I'd forgotten to cast the usual cooling charm I used to ensure I didn't wake up a sweaty, dreadful mess.
The next thing I noticed was Harry, positively wrapped around my side, clinging to me, not the slightest bit overheated at all.
"Ugh, Potter," I mumbled, casting a quick cleaning and drying spell, shuddering as I felt the clammy sweatiness evaporate from me. "Get off, I'm a mess."
"Mmmm," came Harry's reply as he snuggled more deeply into my side.
"I'm going to get coffee and some brekkie going. Can I get up now?" I tried again.
"Mmmph."
Harry, I was learning, was not a morning person and also a very heavy sleeper.
Sighing, I untangled myself from his limbs, which seemed to number much more than four, the way they kept wrapping themselves right back around me as I worked to free myself.
Saviour of the Wizarding World. Defeater of Voldemort. Snuggle Monster Extraordinaire.
I gave a slight giggle at Harry's new title as I pulled on a pair of pyjamas and made for the kitchen.
I yawned, stretching my arms up over my head as I sauntered over to my Lavazza espresso machine. There was no way I could ever start my day without a properly brewed cup of coffee.
Most workdays, I brewed a quick double shot of espresso as I headed out the door.
At the weekends, however, I liked to indulge in a cappuccino or a latte topped with a decadent, caramel-filled stroopwafel from Amsterdam.
I had no idea how Harry liked his coffee. Or if he even drank coffee.
Shrugging, I prepared a second mug of cappuccino and then filled the kettle with water and set it on the burner, should he decide to take tea instead.
"Mmm," came Harry's sleepy voice behind me. "Coffee."
Well, that answered that.
I turned to him, taking in his adorably rumpled appearance, clad only in his jeans, and held out one steaming mug of cappuccino topped with a stroopwafel before picking up my own and heading into the dining room.
Harry followed, carefully holding his mug with both hands, setting it down on the table gingerly, and peering at the treat topping his mug.
"What's that?" he asked, prodding at it gently with one finger.
"A strope-waffle," I replied, curling my legs up beneath me on the loveseat.
Really, putting the small sofa along one side of the table had been absolutely brilliant of me. I'd only done it because I'd had a bunch of people over and not enough chairs when I'd first moved in, but had decided I loved it so much, it had remained.
"A what?" Harry glanced over at me, puzzled. His voice was still raspy, and I realised it wasn't just from sleep but also an aural reminder of just exactly what Potter had been up to for most of last night.
For some reason, that pleased me to no end.
"You've never had a stroopwafel, Potter?" I was so amazed that I forgot all about gloating over his raspy voice.
"I don't think so," he replied, giving it another prod with his finger.
"Merlin, Potter, it's not going to bite you," I drawled, rolling my eyes. "It's a coffee treat from Holland. It's like a waffle cookie that's filled with caramel."
Harry's eyes brightened at this, and he sat up a little straighter, licking his lips, as he reached for the treat resting above his mug.
"Hey!" he looked positively hurt as he withdrew his hand following the smack I'd given him as he'd reached for the stroopwafel.
"You have to wait for the caramel to get all melty," I advised. "Trust me, it's worth it."
Harry pouted and glared at his mug, all but willing the stroopwafel to hurry up and melt with his eyes, and I had to chuckle.
"I can't believe you've never had one," I admitted. "I mean, you love treacle and all that sort of thing so much, I figured you would have discovered these by now."
"How'd you know I love treacle?" he asked, still watching the stroopwafel as though it needed his constant gaze to heat properly.
I rolled my eyes again.
"Seriously, Potter," I snickered. "You moaned so loudly whenever it was served all of Hogwarts knew exactly how much you loved it."
"... so... this is what you eat for breakfast?" he asked, a hint of disappointment in his voice.
"No, Potter," I replied. "This is what I eat while waking up and summoning the energy to make real breakfast."
"Oh." He glanced over at me quickly. "How long does it take this thing to melt?"
I poked at mine gently and noticed the telltale give in the waffle and picked it up, breaking it in half and smiling as a gooey string of caramel stretched between the two halves.
Harry needed no further encouragement and reached for his own, breaking it in half and pulling the pieces apart, watching the caramel stretch.
The string broke, most of it falling on Harry's hand, and he immediately bent his head to lick the sticky caramel from the side of his palm.
Oh. This had been a big mistake, I realised, as Harry gave a most lustful moan as he continued to lick at the caramel covering his hand.
"Hades have mercy, Potter," I managed, my own stroopwafel and cappuccino entirely forgotten as I watched the wanton display in front of me. "No wonder you've never had one of these. No one in their right mind would let you consume one in public."
He paused mid-lick and glanced over at me as though just realising the noises he was making.
Then, his eyes darkened, and he smirked over at me, continuing to lick his way up his palm, moaning again, letting his eyes slide shut as he continued, trailing his tongue up his middle finger before sliding it into his mouth.
"Then I suppose it's a good thing we're not in public, hmm?"
"Tease," I muttered, picking up my mug and taking a sip, glaring at him over the rim.
Potter made no response, just kept eating his stroopwafel, dipping it into his cappuccino, still moaning quietly because he was a slut for caramel.
We sat in relative silence, drinking our coffee and eating the stroopwafels, and I briefly wondered if I should get up and make a proper breakfast.
I was broken from my musings to find a very impish-looking Harry kneeling between my knees, eyes focused on my cock, which had, apparently, been very aware of what Harry was up to, given its current semi-hard state.
"Potter," I sputtered, setting my mug back on the table. "What..."
"Shh," he soothed, vanishing my pyjamas and leaning in to lick up my cock.
"Mmm," he sighed, once he'd reached the tip. "Caramel and Malfoy. Now that's a lolly."
He grinned up at me cheekily, and I snorted, rolling my eyes in response.
The man was ridiculous.
Ridiculous and gifted with an incredibly talented mouth, I amended silently as Harry began to lick and suck at my cock, looking for all the world as though this were his ideal morning routine.
"Careful, Potter," I sighed as he finally slid down, swallowing around my cock yet again, "You're not going to be able to talk for the rest of the day if you keep that up."
Harry merely sighed and continued to suck up and down my cock a few times before releasing it.
"Why don't you let me worry about that, Malfoy?" he suggested silkily, mouthing along the side of my shaft as he did so.
I groaned as Harry licked back up to tease the head of my cock a bit before sliding back down, and really, I'd warned him, so any consequence Harry had for sucking too much cock was certainly none of my business anymore.
I closed my eyes and sank lower in the loveseat, spreading my thighs, allowing Harry better access, as I lost myself in the wet, satiny heat of his mouth working up and down my length, throat opening and swallowing around me like it was what Harry was put on this earth to do.
Merlin, this was a bloody nice way to start the weekend, I thought lazily, feeling my orgasm rise all too quickly under Harry's expert mouth.
Without any warning, that delicious warmth was gone, and my eyes snapped open only to see Potter smirking up at me.
"Edging, eh, Malfoy?" he quipped, licking his lips, with a positively evil glint in his eye before he disappeared with a pop.
The fucking bastard, I groaned to myself, wrapping my hand around my aching dick resignedly.
Bringing only the Slytherin bits of him, indeed.